Leave Your Pride at the Doorstep
by chalantness
Summary: for SuzyQ113 and Jj / It's just kind of crazy that she even knows what she does about him, considering their track record. It's even crazier that it took having casual sex with him on the regular for them to actually forge some kind of friendship.


**Title: **_Leave Your Pride at the Doorstep  
_**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 5,700+  
**Characters:** Roy/Artemis  
**Summary:** It's just kind of crazy that she even _knows_ what she does about him, considering their track record. It's even crazier that it took having casual sex with him on the regular for them to actually forge some kind of friendship.  
**Kinks:** dominant!Roy; bondage; biting; mirrors; toys and devices; rough/angry sex; implied fuck buddies; sex in public places; kissing

**For:** SuzyQ113 and Jj. The reason for the double-dedication is because the prompts kept blending together in my mind and I somehow ended up with a story that was able incorporate most of the kinks chosen and then some.

**Leave Your Pride at the Doorstep**

The dress she wears to the wedding is a deep orange that matches the garnet in the brooch holding her shawl in place, and she twisted her hair into this bun that looks like it took longer to put together than it really did. It's been a while since she's dressed up for personal reasons rather than mission purposes, and she wanted to look nice for them.

Even if it _did_ take two glasses of vodka and cranberry juice this morning to convince her that she _should_ come.

And she's happy for them—she really _is_.

It's just that she always thought Dinah and Ollie were going to be together forever but then something blew up between them that no one else knows about, and now she's sitting at the reception and watching as Dick makes his speech to Bruce and Dinah.

It's touching and makes her tear up, and beside her, Megan grasps her forearm and squeezes. Megan cries through the rest of the speeches, too, but in Artemis's biased opinion, Dick's is the best. Not that the others weren't sentimental, but there was just something extremely vulnerable about his that made it special.

She tells him this, too, a little later, when plates are being cleared and people are starting to dance and Dick walks over to her and asks if she would do him the honor.

"So you do have a heart," he teases, twirling her away before she can hit him and then smiling as he pulls her back in. "I'm glad you came, Arty. I know it couldn't have been too easy considering everything."

"Are you trying to make me regret coming?"

"I'm just worried about you. We never got a chance to talk about what happened with… Sorry. I'm making things worse, aren't I?"

She grins. "Since when did dorky Dick Grayson become so mature?"

"You have Donna to thank for that," he laughs. "And If I didn't already know insulting was your way of showing affection, I'd be highly offended right now."

"If you didn't know insulting was my way of showing affection then you'd be a pretty crappy best friend."

He smirks. "Would a crappy best friend tell you that the hall next door is supposed to be empty for the rest of the night and has a bar that's fully stocked?" She furrows her eyebrows at him and he shrugs. "But I guess I can't share that with you that because I _am_ a crappy best friend who can't tell when someone needs a few minutes to themselves."

She'd hate how often he comes to her rescue if she didn't love it so much. God, he really _is_ her best friend. She doesn't know how that happened.

He leads them off the dance floor, sets his hand on the small of her back. "I can probably buy you half an hour before someone comes looking for you," he says.

Then with another twirl, she finds herself standing alone in the empty hallway.

She uses the pin of her brooch to pick the lock of the only other set of double doors in the hallway and then slips inside. The chandeliers are very dimly lit, which makes her question if she's alone, but the panic leaves as quickly as it came. It's not as if she's defenseless and, with almost the entire Justice League and then some in the next room, it's not like she's without back-up, either. At least it'll make it easier to find a light switch instead of groping around the room in total darkness like she half-expected.

Anyway, this ballroom is smaller than the one the reception is in but not by much, and is filled with hundreds of chairs and dozens of tables. The bar at the other end of the room is in front of a giant mirror hanging on the wall and has its own chandelier right above it, which lights up when she walks across the room and flicks a switch on the wall.

She spends a few minutes looking at the different labels before finding a brand of scotch that she's heard of and wanted to try but never had the time to hunt down. She pours some in a glass and drops a few ice cubes in, drinks it tentatively as she browses the rest of the alcohol selection.

She finds a label of wine that's in Vietnamese and gets distracted enough translating it to herself (well, that's the excuse she's sticking to) to not hear anyone else come in.

Not until he clears his throat a little and she has to catch the wine by the bottleneck after she nearly drops it in surprise.

It's Roy.

"Nice reflexes," he says, and she can tell he's actually somewhat sincere, or at least that he's not being sarcastic or condescending or something.

"Thanks," she replies, sliding the bottle back onto the rack.

She wants to ask what he's doing here but she can most likely predict his answer—well, _answers_. He's probably here to: a) avoid watching his ex-girlfriend dance the night away with her new boyfriend, b) pout—even though he _hates_ that word—over their former mentor not attending the ceremony or the reception, or c) both.

Then of course there's: d) he's here for her. Because, no, unlike more than half of the people in the other room, this _isn't_ the first time in months since she's seen him.

She's actually seen Roy more than Dick in the past few weeks, which really says something since Dick, and therefore Donna, are the only people she visits kind of regularly.

Except when she visits Dick, she doesn't end up sleeping over and sharing a cup of coffee with him in the morning, chatting casually about something random like they were ever relatively close and like they didn't just spend the previous night giving each other multiple orgasms.

(Not that anyone other than herself and Roy know about this.)

So she tilts her head a little and asks, "How did you know I was in here?"

He shakes his head and sits down on a barstool.

"I didn't. I just wanted to escape the party," he admits, "figured I'd have less of a chance at getting caught if I snuck in here instead of hanging out in the bathroom." Then his eyes flick over her in a way that makes her feel like she's too exposed, even though she's wearing a freaking _shawl_ to prevent exactly that. "I guess I was wrong."

She takes a gulp of her scotch to keep from saying something stupid. Then she takes a smaller sip and asks, "Want some?"

He looks at the drink, and then at the bottle still sitting on the counter, narrowing his eyes a little. "Is that the brand I told you about?" She nods. "Yeah, alright."

She pours him a glass and makes sure to put less ice in his than she did in hers, because she knows that he tends to take his time with drinking and hates when whatever he's drinking ends up being too watered down because he let all of the ice melt.

Then as she sets the glass in front of him, she realizes that that's only one of many intimate details about him that she knows (and surprisingly, a lot of them aren't even sexual). Well, not that that's very intimate. It actually seems like something you could share with a perfect stranger in passing to make conversation.

It's just kind of crazy that she even _knows_ what she does about him, considering their track record. It's even crazier that it took having casual sex with him on the regular for them to actually forge some kind of friendship.

"It's good," he says before taking another sip, and she nods, downing the rest of hers. "Trying to drink everything away?"

"No." Then she pours more into her glass and he shakes his head, and yeah, she can see how that wasn't all that convincing, but whatever. "It's good scotch."

She sets the bottle back onto the rack and walks around the counter, because she knows that if she keeps it out, the small part of her that actually _does_ want to just get drunk and forget everything will win and she'll just keep refilling her glass until Roy takes it away from her (which she knows her Drunk Self will fight him for) or until she passes out.

She sits on the barstool next to his and takes another gulp before setting her glass down on the granite countertop.

"I wonder if that old stiff would like it, too. If he came then he might've been able to try some," Roy says almost absently, except she knows Roy doesn't do anything _absently_.

"Don't blame Ollie for not coming," she tells him. "He loved Dinah, and I think part of him always will. Just knowing what today was couldn't have been easy."

"The same could be said about us."

She frowns. "Being in the same room with our exes and their significant others hardly compares to watching the woman you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with get married to a man you consider a close friend. I mean, what if Dick and Donna got married? Would you feel up to going?"

He takes a large swig of his scotch and slams the glass down hard enough that she thinks it might've cracked, but she doesn't even flinch.

"Wally's girlfriend's pretty, huh?"

She chokes a little on nothing and kind of stares at him because she has no idea where that came from.

"_Pink_ _hair_ and _pink eyes_," he goes on, and then takes another gulp. "I never would've guessed Wally got turned on by anime characters. But the funny thing is that she kind of has a criminal record." Artemis's hand tightens around her glass. "She's straightened out now, apparently, because of Wally. And I know you talked with her. She's almost—"

"Roy, _don't_—"

"—exactly like you, right? Didn't she remind you of yourself? At least there are differences between me and Dick or Bruce and Ollie that go beyond our looks."

She hates that she feels her eyes sting a little, and she has to clench her jaw so hard that her teeth grind together.

He downs the rest of his drink and finally looks at her.

"So tell me exactly how fair it is for Ollie to skip out on the weddingof two of his closest friends because he's depressed, but I have to watch Donna and Dick be together after finding out that she's had feelings for him ever since we were _kids_—even when she was with _me_—and you have to watch Wally be in love with a fucking _replacement _ofyou."

She wants to scream, and cry, and be pissed, and smash her glass into his throat.

But he's right.

He's absolutely right about everything.

She knows he's being defensive of Dinah because she was there for him more than Ollie was when he was going through his clone depression, and in his own twisted way, he's even being defensive of Artemis because Wally _did_ pretty much replace her. No matter how much she doesn't want to be the jealous ex, Wally's _pink_ girlfriend is not very different from Artemis at all and it _hurts_ to know that she's the type of girl that Wally needs but he just doesn't want _her_. She hates him for doing that to her.

But right now, she just really hates Roy even more for saying everything she's been trying to avoid all night.

"You don't have to take all of your anger out one me," she gets out through her teeth, abandoning her drink as she gets up and begins to walk away.

Except, as she steps past him, he sliding from his chair and standing up and grabbing her wrist before she's even gotten two feet away, and he catches her fist when she twists herself around and tries to get a punch in.

Then he has both hands holding her wrists tightly as he yanks her forward by them until she's bumping against his hard chest and he's pressing their lips together. He tightens his grip around her wrists and sort of bends them, pushing his tongue against hers when her mouth parts to gasp at the discomforting pain.

She'd be more embarrassed of how instantly wet she is just from kissing him if she wasn't already dying from not having sex in over a week.

(Nine days to be exact, and yes, she hates herself for counting.)

She was so, so close to caving and going to him—since he's always the one coming to her and that makes her feel like she has some sort of control over whatever this is between them, even though neither of them really do. But then she remembered that they had the wedding and figured maybe that's why he's been too preoccupied for her.

So she gave him his space and, okay, so what if she had every intention of leaving the reception with him and letting him fuck all of the emotional weight of today away?

And she's so distracted by their kiss that she doesn't even notice that he let go of her wrists until she feels him fumbling to get his tie undone. He nips her bottom lip and she kisses him back harder and pushes his hands away so she can push his blazer off. _God_, she hopes those doors lock automatically whenever they close, because it's very obvious they're going to have sex right here and now and she doesn't want someone walking in on them and ruining it.

She gets his tie undone and lets it hang around his neck as she begins unfastening his buttons, and honestly, she probably should've remembered that he _never_ wants to take off his own tie. When he figured out that seeing him in a suit drove her hormones crazy, he always came by "after work" in one and she'd always pull his tie off for him.

But obviously she's too preoccupied with wanting to kiss him and get straight to the sex to really think about this detail until she's unbuttoned his vest and gotten a few from the top of his shirt undone, because that's when her hands are suddenly being forced behind her back and she's sucking in another gasp at the pain she feels when he tugs the tie tightly around her wrists and successfully binds them together.

"Roy, what the—"

He cuts her off by kissing her and she feels herself being pinned between his chest and the bar, feels him tear the brooch off. (Which honestly pisses her off more than him tying her wrists, because seriously, does he not know how expensive this shawl was or how hard it is to repair? He could've just taken the pin off properly, for crying out loud!)

She hears the brooch clatter to the counter and feels the shawl being pulled her shoulders, catching a glimpse of his face for a second when he pulls away from their kiss, and then her vision is being blinded by the silk material. He wraps her shawl around her head and into a knot at the back, and before she can even try to protest, his breath his warm against her ear as he whispers, "Try to break free and I stop this here."

It sends a chill down her spine and right between her legs, and manages to make her feel excited and incredibly annoyed, because she's always hated being told what to do.

But she does something incredibly impossible for her and swallows her pride so she can nod because, _fuck_, she _needs_ to come and _he_ needs to be the one to make her.

He traces his fingers up her thigh and runs them against the damp lace of her panties, and she sucks in a breath because she needs _more_. Without being able to see anything, all of her sensations feel like magnified. And the way he presses up too lightly so that her panties barely come into contact with her wet folds? It's basically ten times more frustratingly unsatisfying than it already would've been. Then he pulls his fingers away and she bites her tongue to keep from _whimpering_.

He totally notices it, too, because he asks, "What's the matter, Artemis?" and she swallows, _hard_. "Artemis?"

"…I'm wet," she whispers.

"I know."

Then he pushes the straps of her dress down so that they fall over her shoulders and her bra is exposed, and basically the only thing keeping her dress up is the fact that it's an empire waist, so there's a ribbon over her wrapping around her torso and into a bow in the back.

She squirms a little, and when she tries to close her legs, he uses his foot to push at one of her heels so that her legs spread further apart. He does this while reaching behind and hooking his finger underneath the clasp of her strapless bra and as soon as he snaps it open, she kind of holds her breath.

And she hates not being able to see, because she freaking _gasps_ in surprise when his mouth is on one of her breasts in the same second his fingers are between her legs again and pressing too lightly against her center. His tongue is hot against her skin as he swirls it around her mound, and then he _bites_ down right next to her nipple as his thumb brushes gently against her clit through the damp lace, and she feels like her neck almost snaps when she throws her head back in pleasure and moans.

He drags his tongue along the dip of her breasts and does the same with the other, just barely grazing his thumb over her clit through her panties as he bites down on her skin. Then his hand slides up and he hooks his thumb under the waistband and pushes her panties down, and it stops at her knees because her legs are spread too widely for it to fall further, so he nudges at her thigh and she takes that as an invitation to close her legs and step out of her panties.

He dips his hand underneath her dress again and as soon as his knuckles brush against her wetness, she sucks in a breath and shifts her hips up, but he pulls his hand away so that she can't make any more contact with it.

"_Roy_," she whines before she can stop herself.

He groans at his name and his tongue laps at her neck. "What?"

"I'm so… I'm _so wet_. I need…" She shifts her hips up instead of actually saying the words.

She feels him lean over a little as he reaches for something, and then his hands are rolling the hem of her dress up. He tucks the back underneath the bow to keep it up, and she feels something cold between her breasts keeping the front of the dress is up as well, realizing a second later that it's her brooch that he used to pin it.

He pushes her legs further apart and she leans her weight back against the bar to stay upright, expecting to feel his hot tongue or his calloused fingers on her.

_Not_ something cold and hard.

She jolts at the unexpected stimulation over her wet folds and a shiver ripples through her body. "_What the…_" she mutters as whatever it is slides against her throbbing center, sending a chilling sensation that completely conflicts with how warm she is down there.

Then Roy drags the frigid, cold sensation away from her center and runs it along the crease of her thigh, and she realizes that it's an ice cube.

"_Fuck_," she moans.

The ice cube presses into her opening just a little and her body jolts again.

"How long has it been since we were last together?" Roy asks, dragging the ice cube up along her folds and dangerously close to her throbbing bud. She tries to shift her hips but he runs it back down and presses it over her opening again and making her gasp for breath. "I asked a question, Artemis."

"Nine days," she says, shuddering lightly at his tone of voice.

If she hates being controlled then why does Roy being the dominant one turn her on so much?

He hums at her answer, drawing the ice cube back up. "Bet they were a frustrating nine days, huh?" he goes on. She can feel the already partially-melted ice cube dissolving even more, dripping water over her folds and making the tingling sensation more prominent. "You probably got yourself off, but nothing can ever compare to the real thing, right?"

She nods without really thinking about it and he slides the rapidly thinning ice cube back down and pushes it into her, and she moans as it melts away completely.

She hears faint clinking as he's reaching into the glass for another one, but this time he goes straight to her bundle of nerves and circles it very, very slowly, her leg twitching in response as he's carefully not making the contact that she needs.

"Did you think of just anyone having you, or did you think of me?" He presses the ice cube against her nerves and drags it down, pushing it shallowly into her opening and making her mumble incoherently. "What?" She gasps and bites her lower lip, _hard_, and he pushes the ice cube further into her as one of his fingers reaches up and quickly circles her clit, making her legs buck. "Did you imagine my tongue on you like this ice cube, or my fingers inside you instead of yours?"

He pushes the ice cube entirely inside and she whimpers and cries out softly, "_Yes_, I did. _Fuck_, of course I thought of you."

The roar of the blood in her ears probably prevents her from hearing him grab for a third, but then she feels another ice cube slide over her bud and she almost comes instantly. Her legs are quivering and she can feel her muscles graze against the cube inside her, can feel her own wetness and the melting water mix together as they drip down her thighs.

He circles her clit with the ice cube in his hand, brushing very, very gently against her bud right before quickly sliding the cube over it and circling again. Then she feels both ice cubes melt away and her muscles throb because she's _so_ _close_ and she doesn't know how she hasn't come yet.

He steps away and she very nearly growls in frustration.

But then she hears the sounds of his belt being undone and his pants falling to the floor, and she _knows_ that it's really been too long since she's had this because she's suddenly way too excited.

His hands settle themselves at her waist and he kisses her in a way that would feel completely inappropriate if they weren't already doing what they're doing. She has no idea why he's kissing her or why he suddenly pushes two fingers into her, because it's obvious that she's totally wet for him. But he's probably just stalling because all of their previous encounters have sort of been on her terms, but tonight she's pretty much been entirely at his mercy and she knows he's totally enjoying it.

She'd be more annoyed by it if she wasn't so desperate for him to give her an orgasm.

Then as soon as she feels herself enjoying the kiss rather than being frustrated by him not getting her off, he pulls his fingers from her and spins her around.

His length is hard between her legs, and as he steps forward to press his chest against her back and trap her between him and the counter again, it grazes against her soaked desire and makes her whole body tremble and twitch. He kisses the column of her neck a few times, and his breath is warm against her ear as he whispers, "I don't have a condom."

Fuck. _Fuck_.

She's on the pill, but they've never, ever done this without a condom because they're not stupid and they don't want any surprises. He's not even teasing her, either, because they're serious about being safe. But her mind is hazy from her desire and maybe even from the scotch she just drank and she's dangerously close to not caring about it.

She rolls her hips so that her center slides along his length, but it's not nearly enough and she needs him to _move._

"Maybe we shouldn't risk it…" he says, beginning to pull away.

"Please! _Please_," she gasps.

She tugs her wrists helplessly against their binding and hates him for making her beg almost as much as she hates herself for begging. But she can't even use her fingers on herself, which she knows wouldn't nearly be as satisfying as the real thing, but _fuck_, she needs some sort of relief.

"I… I don't care! I just… _please_, I _need_ this."

"This?" he echoes.

His head presses against her opening and she whimpers when he doesn't go in. "_You_, Roy, I need _you_! _Please_. I need…"

He thrusts up into her, hard, grazing her spot, and her own gasp cuts her off as her muscles clench around him and his arm wraps around her torso to keep her steady as she shakes with her release, her back arching and her head falling against his shoulder. "Oh. _Oh. _Oh god, _Roy_," she moans as he keeps fucking her through her orgasm. He's grazing her spot and sinking in deeper with each thrust and the tie digs into her wrist as she struggles against it and everything just kind of hurts in all the best ways possible.

He pushes her head off of his shoulder and tugs away the knot at the back of her head away, and she actually squints against the light that seems a lot brighter than before.

Then she realizes that they're in front of the mirror and she shivers because the first thing she sees is their reflection. The bar covers pretty much everything below their ribs, but she can see their bodies moving together with every thrust and when he meets her eyes in the mirror, she watches herself swallow and lick her lips.

"Keep watching," he tells her. He doesn't threaten to stop or anything, but either she hears it being implied or she's just worried he'll stop if she doesn't do it, so she listens.

It's kind of strangely erotic to be able to watch everything that's being done to her, which she thinks was his intention. But she sees him lower his head and sees his tongue dart out as she feels it against her skin, and when his thrusts grow a little faster, she actually watches their movements grow quicker.

He nips at her neck and makes her squirm as she watches the arm not keeping her upright begin to reach out, his hand dipping into his glass for another ice cube. She'd think about how surprised she is that the ice cubes haven't entirely melted away by now, but then he meets her eyes in the mirror again as he's bringing his hand back, and she gets distracted from that stupid thought as she follows the ice cube in his fingers make its way to her body.

She still manages to jolt in surprise at the cold sensation even though she's watching the exact second the ice cube touches her breast, and they're both kind of watching her reaction in the mirror as he begins circling her mound. Her skin is flushed and her lips are parted and her chest moves more erratically as she starts having to gasp for breath.

He looks away, and she watches their reflection as his mouth finds her pulse and sucks down on it and her body arches. Then he slides the ice cube against her nipple, sucks on her pulse again as he circles the hard bud, and her attempts to twist away are useless because he still has an arm around her that's keeping her in place. He brings it to her other breast and kisses her neck, thrusting into her a little harder and at a different angle in the same second he circles the ice cube around her other nibble, and she _gasps_.

He dips the ice cube and brushes it along the crease where her breast meets her ribs, which makes her shudder because that's her most ticklish spot. Then he drags the ice cube back to her other breast again and does the same, making her squirm as he thrusts up into her _hard_, and then just _stops_.

She's so close to another orgasm that she wants to cry. She can actually feel tears gathering, and the edges of her vision blur because of it.

Then she watches him move the ice cube down her body and disappear behind the bar as she feels the cold wetness trail down her abs, and she inhales sharply as she feels the frigid sensation graze her clit, her muscles clenching tightly around him and making him groan.

He circles the ice cube around her bud but still doesn't move his hips, which she doesn't get _at all_ because she knows that they're both _so close_ to release.

"No one else can make you feel this way, can't they?" he asks.

She _moans_.

He brushes the ice cube so that it just barely touches her clit and the second she jumps in response, he begins pulling out.

Then he thrusts back into her as he presses the ice cube a little more against her clit and she actually cries out his name. "No one else can have you," he tells her, voice low, and he begins slowly circling her sensitive bud again. She blinks and causes a tear to roll down, and his tongue slides over the apple of her cheek and catches it. "Artemis?"

She feels him begin to pull out and she blurts out, "_No one_! Fuck, Roy, _I'm yours_! You know I am…"

He thrusts into her again, rolling his hips and rubbing the ice cube against her nerves as she comes undone. This orgasm is more violent than the first and she swears that her muscles tightening around his length is what triggers his orgasm.

He groans and he stills his hips, and she whimpers because she feels him emptying into her for the first time rather than into a condom and she loves it more than she should.

But when her head falls back against his shoulder, he shrugs it back up and kisses her, nipping at her bottom lip and pushing his tongue into her mouth, and it totally catches her off guard when he begins working the ice cube against her clit again. Her lungs are on fire because she's having a hard time breathing and her body's still humming from her second orgasm, but she feels a third building up rapidly and she doesn't even know how that's even possible.

Then she's flying over the edge again and breaking their kiss to gasp for air, and he rubs the ice cube slowly against her clit during her orgasm until it's entirely melted away.

She's absolutely _exhausted_.

(And _fuck_, he basically just made them admit that they have feelings for each other that aren't just platonic or sexual. She hates him.)

She makes a noise from the back of her throat when he pulls out of her and honestly, it's a miracle that she's still standing right now. Sure, she's leaning against the bar to support most of her weight, but considering that her muscles are mostly numb, she wonders how she's still functioning.

They wipe themselves clean with some napkins and Roy tosses them in the waste bin behind the bar after he's gotten his pants back on and his belt buckled. She unpins her brooch and pulls the hem of her dress back down, running her hands over the material to smooth out the wrinkles before clasping her bra on and pulling her straps over her shoulders. Roy buttons up his shirt and vest, and she fixes his tie for him even though he knows how to do it himself.

Roy plucks her panties off the floor and slips them into his pocket, and she rolls her eyes at the cliché, but whatever. He's just going to take them off of her again when they leave this reception together in an hour, so.

She drapes her shawl over her shoulders, and she has to adjust it and pin it to hide where Roy yanked her brooch off and snagged the material. He washes their glasses and puts them away, then waits as she stands in front of the mirror to make sure that her hair and makeup look alright (aka: like she didn't just receive three orgasms).

There are some people on the dance floor as waiters pass out champagne and cake, and she knows people probably saw them walk in together but she can't bring herself to really care. They'll most likely assume they stepped out for air together or ran into each other outside. She doubts they'd be accused of hooking up.

Even though that's exactly what they just did.

Someone hands her a slice of cake, so she sits down in her chair again and eats it as she's watching everyone around the room.

Then she meets Roy's eyes a few minutes later, when her cake is pretty much gone and she's basically eating whipped cream, and she doesn't miss the way he swallows when she swipes her tongue over her bottom lip to lick her mouth clean.

(Maybe they don't have to stay for another whole hour, or even half of one.)

(And maybe they can pick up some whipped cream for themselves from the 24-hour Walgreens by her apartment.)


End file.
